He breaks the seal, he pours the wine;
We find the flavor somewhat hard,
But the color is divine.

And we must drink it to the lees:
See yonder coward lift the cup
And drain it on his knees.

If we must down it, hard and sweet,
Bitter and mellow, we will up
And drink it on our feet;

Drink it like men of giant race —
Pledge to our host, who stands not far
With smiles across his face.

He knows the flavor and bouquet.
He forces it on every guest,
Grinning the same old way.

He keeps the flagon on the shelf
And gives us each a mighty glass,
But will not drink himself.

He will not drink, but we must drink;
So let us toss the stuff and bow —
Only the cowards shrink.